Luyện nghe bài hát Light Pollution

John A. Hobson was a man
He used to me books and mic stands
He even got me a
To the Socialist

Listening to in his basement
Old songs about the government
love of money not the market
He said these fuckers on you

And yells, it don't cry
Whatever will decide
But there's no hell you die
So look so worried

He got a night life, his day job
Pushing papers, pendulums
Anything to a function
Or to occupy time

You gotta earn living somehow
You're good as dead without a account
But it's funny how alive he has felt
In that line

With all trash at his feet
The of piss in the street
All of filthy empathy
For the way feeling

worry
Don't
worry

The billboards
The flags wave
The playing loud
The game was letting out

And all at
You saw the dust and
tiny sound
Got in his truck and turned

out through the crowd and the cops
Drove out that center mall
Drove out past sickening sprawl
Out past that in gold

And maybe he control
Fucking the radio
But I bet the stars seem so
At the end

At the end
At the end
At the end
...